Dark
by Exileian
Summary: It thought it was alone, always alone, in the presence of itself, but it's funny how fate works.
1. Burn

It had always been there, hiding inside him, lurking in the shadows of his mind. Once it had been just a tiny flicker of evil, the little devil on his shoulder that pushed him to cause mischief. It had been harmless.

But now it was not.

Two years' worth of darkness being forced through his veins and into his very soul had mutated it. The actual eco had been what made his body change whenever he got angry; the psychological torment was what took the little devil and turned it into something new. Something different.

Now it was evil.

And it was nothing but.

It stayed crouched in the corners of Jak's mind, absentmindedly watching the world through his eyes. It saw all the events, all the people, all the stories that unfolded, all the things that Jak did and saw.

Personally, it didn't care. It preferred the explosions, the shooting, and the bloodshed. And sometimes, it got to leap out of its corner and take control of his body and kill things. It liked to kill things. It really liked that.

But Jak would always come back and regain control, and it had to go back into its corner and watch some more.

It wasn't an exciting life; that had ended when Jak learned how to control it. Before it roamed freely through his mind, slashing this, controlling that, doing whatever it pleased. It couldn't do that any more. It wasn't very happy about that.

Then, one day, long after it had first been created and only a few months after it had been subdued, it felt something. Another presence in this mind.

Another presence on _its_ territory.

It wasn't pleased with that. It wanted to seek out and find the source of the presence and kill it. This was its land, its shadow-mind, and nothing was allowed to infringe on it.

So it made its way through Jak's mind, claws making no sound on a floor that wasn't there. It often crawled along on all fours because that was faster and quieter, and because it sometimes made gashes in the shadows. It was fun to make gashes. Sometimes they started to bleed.

As it progressed, a peculiar smell filled the shadows. It raised its head and sniffed around. The smell was…unfamiliar. It wasn't blood; it knew very well what blood smelled like, and this was not blood. It wasn't gasoline or zoomer grease; it knew that much from the hours Jak spent inhaling them. It wasn't anything it could recognize. It wasn't even like the smells from the forest, soft and sweet and cool. They weren't to its liking, and so it spent time hiding from Jak's senses when he spent long hours lying in the sun.

The smell was unlike anything it had ever met. And it was coming from something very bright.

Slowly, it approached an abrupt deviation in the shadows. It squinted at the sudden not-black and crawled forward, using one hand to shadow its eyes and the other to support its weight.

The not-black turned and looked at it, and it froze.

There was a sense of absolute calm around the not-black. A feeling of serenity, of complete tranquility, emanated from the not-black, settling on the shadows and over it like a heavy blanket. It hissed and cringed, shaking its body violently in an attempt to rid itself of the feeling. It was unsettling, and it didn't like it.

It edged closer to the not-black, trying to hide its eyes from the absolute not-blackness. The not-black continued to look at it, or so it thought. Where there could be eyes was turned toward it.

It crouched and looked at the not-black quietly. Its urge to kill was being quelled, and in its place was a new feeling. One of interest. Intrigue. Curiosity. But the violence was still there.

Slowly, hesitantly, it reached up to touch the not-black. When the not-black didn't move, it reached forward faster and grabbed what it thought was the not-black's arm.

_BURN BURN BURN PAIN PAIN PAIN _

A massive, blinding pain erupted in its hand, and it unleashed a piercing scream. It let go of the not-black and threw itself away from the not-black, ran from the not-black, tried to escape from the not-black, the not-black who continued to stare at it as it ran. Its entire arm started to hurt as it ran. Its entire body started to hurt as it ran. It hurt as it ran. It hurt.

When it felt like it was far enough away from the not-black to be safe, it stopped running. Its legs collapsed under it and it fell, rolling and tumbling unceremoniously until it finally came to a stop in the middle of shadows.

There it huddled, cradling its arm to its chest, focusing on the pain and nothing but the pain because it hurt so much. An unbelievable anger began to boil in its chest, and it hissed and spat at the shadows. The not-black began to consume its thoughts, and it melted into the shadows.


	2. Rage

After a time, it felt that it was safe to leave the shadows and slither back into Jak's mind. Its arm still hurt, but by now it was only a constant throbbing to distract it from everything it wanted to focus on. Thankfully it allowed it to continue to focus on the not-black, who had caused this throbbing. With every pulse, every twitch in its burned and blackened purple-pale arm, it saw the not-black and the not-black's flat, blank gaze. If that had been a gaze.

It was angry, angrier than it had ever been before. The not-black hurt it, and the not-black had to suffer. Hopefully the not-black would die.

Tripping over its own feet, it began to hop-skip in the direction it remembered finding the not-black in. Its senses felt dull and useless now, thanks to the not-black's injury, so it couldn't smell out the not-black. Everything was focused on the burning hurt. There was nothing left to find the not-black except gouged memory and bleeding shadows.

Eternities passed. There was no not-black.

It searched some more. There was no not-black.

Where it was so sure the not-black had been, it stood.

There was no not-black.

In a fit of sudden fury, it screamed and punched the shadows below its feet with its injured arm. This resulted in yet another scream, although more of pain than frustration. The rage was the same. The rage was always the same.

Where was the not-black? Where was the not-black?!

It turned in circles, trying to see the not-black or at least something that looked like the not-black, but found only dark and shadows. What had once been so comforting was now bleak. It hissed.

Where was the not-black?

Silence reigned for a moment. It crouched and stared at the dark and shadows, at the endless depths of a mind he was part of, before throwing back its head and unleashing a frenzied shriek. The sound cut the thick black like lightning and lingered even after it had stopped.

It leaped from its spot and howled furiously, swinging at the shadows. If it could not find the not-black like this, then destruction would surely draw the not-black. Something as unfitting as the not-black could only be drawn in anger by the destruction of something it probably thought belonged to it. But the darkness belonged to _it. _All the darkness was _its. _

And suddenly the not-black was there.

It swung around and saw the not-black: a paper cutout, so flat and blank against the shadows. It stalled as the feelings of tranquility, serenity, and curiosity caressed its skin. Perhaps it could stop its violence for a moment to…think?

No.

_NEED MORE RAGE _

_ NEED. MORE. RAGE. _

It screeched and lunged, completely forgetting about the wound that blazed along its arm. Long black claws aimed for the not-black's face. Blood would spurt out from under them when they hit and coat them both; then it would pull out its claws and more blood would dribble down the not-black's face. After that it would repeat the process, over and over and over again, slashing and cutting and gouging and stabbing to its heart's content. Then there would be nothing left of the not-black. Just a big throbbing mass covered in red blood. Or maybe the blood would be black. It knew its blood was black. Perhaps the not-black's would be, as well.

But its claws did not reach the not-black. It stared at a blank nothingness of darkness. The not-black had gone.

Where?

Something touched the wound on its arm. It looked over and found itself face-to-face with the not-black.

The not-black that was holding his arm.

With a ferocious shriek, it tried to jet itself away, but the not-black held on. It screamed and clawed violently. Surely its arm would burn and hurt and get it OFF.

But there was no burning, no hurting. In fact, the hurting from its wound started to fade. It stared at the wound, and at the not-black.

The not-black was healing its wound.

'Healing' was a word it had learned from watching Jak's life. It meant a stop to hurt. Sometimes it was nice. Right now it was not.

The not-black let go, and it stared at its arm. Pale and purple and absolutely unmarked.

That wasn't right.

Neither was the funny feeling in its chest.

_NEED MORE RAGE _

The not-black gave it that same look, that same flat, blank look. It opened its mouth and hissed a warning.

They stood facing each other, both refusing to move.


	3. Panic

It was angry. It was so, so angry. Its hands clenched into fists, the claws drawing blood every time they met its palms. Liquid black dripped down into the fathomless depths of the mind it shared – no, _owned. _

Opening its mouth, it let out a warning hiss again. It was prepared to give the not-black a chance to run before tearing it into pieces. It may have been a bottomless pit of evil that fought dirty and had no honor code, but it wasn't an asshole.

The not-black didn't move. So it lunged.

The ensuing fight wasn't so much of a battle as it was a brawl. One moment it had the not-black in its sights, staring blankly at it with that ever-present calm look, and the next its face was being crushed into the ground. Shocked beyond belief, it tried to leap up and attack the not-black, but its head was being firmly held to the ground by the not-black's hand and its hands were pinned behind its back by the not-black's foot.

Rage and embarrassment exploded in its brain. It howled viciously, bucking and struggling wildly under the painful grip. It wanted to be let go, be released, let me GO I will KILL YOU so LET me GO!

But it was not released. It screamed and spat, tearing at the ground-shadows with its teeth. The not-white was too fast, moved to fast, was too strong to be a part of Jak! How? How?! Not possible, not right!

That same feeling as before – tingling, strange, making its chest hurt – filled its body, centered in his hands. The not-black was healing it again, healing the tiny gouges its nails had left in its palms.

It. Was. Healing. It. In. Battle.

It unleashed with a horrible cry, blasting the not-black off its back with a sudden explosion of dark purple lightning strikes. Whether or not the not-black had been expecting it didn't matter; the not-black was gone, and it could attack again. Which is exactly what it did.

This time, the not-black let it charge, caught its hand and extended claws when it reached, and suddenly the two were involved in an all-out fistfight. It felt some tension being eased from its mind. It had the upper hand again. Things would be good. It would kill the not-black and reclaim this mind as its own.

It failed to notice that the not-black was totally on the defensive, and so when the not-black struck, it was again shocked into silence.

Within a matter of seconds, it went from pummeling the armored arms of the not-black to staring into the blank blackness of the mind. Again it had been shoved to the nonexistent ground and was being pinned there by the not-black.

For a few moments, it stayed silent, wondering why it wasn't being run through by something, why its chest wasn't filled with the searing pain it experienced when a bullet it hit during its exploits while controlling Jak's body. There was nothing there except the pressure coming from the not-black's weight and from its own startled anger.

It stayed silent.

And then it screamed.

Once again it thrashed and flailed, trying to free itself from the not-black. When that didn't work, it tried to force the not-black off with blasts of purple-black lightning, but that didn't work either. It put all its strength into trying to get out from under the not-black.

It failed.

Eternities of minutes passed before it finally gave up and stopped howling, screeching, struggling and twisting. It lay on the solid shadows, breathing heavily, glaring at the not-black with its black and pupil-less eyes. The not-black gave it the same look, only less angry and not black.

The not-black waited until there was assurance that it would not try to rip the not-black apart should the not-black let go, whereupon it found itself released. Exhaustion had gripped it so heavily that it couldn't have moved if it wanted to. It settled for hissing as often as it could between breaths in an attempt to frighten off the not-black.

It saw the not-black approaching it, stepping over it to kneel next to its head. It hissed loudly, showing its sharp and pointed teeth that so often ripped into flimsy skin and let loose the blood that so desperately wanted freedom. The not-black ignored it and touched its hand again, repeating the damned healing process all over again.

With its hisses declining in volume and frequency, it felt yet another new feeling. Sharp and painful, the feeling gripped his chest and tightened it to the point where it thought that its heart was going to be crushed. It choked and coughed as its breath caught in its throat over and over again.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong.

The not-black suddenly touched its forehead, and it froze. It didn't have the energy to snap at the hand, nor did it have the energy to hiss and snarl wildly. Its chest tightened and crushed and hurt and pain hurt, so much pain hurt.

Then it did something it had never done before.

A soft, high-pitched scream filled the air, and quickly fell to a deafening whine. The not-black gave it a Look, one that it couldn't decipher. It whined again, purely out of fear and pain and this new feeling.

_Out out OUT OUT out out OUT out OUT out OUT out out OUT OUT OUT _

A haze the color of the not-black filled its vision, and it screeched again, only far more broken and terrified this time. Everything wasn't black and it wasn't right nothing was black the not-black did this kill kill kill out now kill kill hurt pain run run out out OUT OUT OUT

When it blinked and found that the mind was black and shadows again, the not-black had gone.


End file.
